


Moonlight Sonata's Remix

by allgoodinthebluehood



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Communicating through dreams, I'm a sucker for music prompts, M/M, Piano, Walking in on someone playing music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allgoodinthebluehood/pseuds/allgoodinthebluehood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His fingers move gracefully through the keys, his head bobbing with each rigid note. Harmonies blend with melodies and dramatic, sweet naturals contrast with the accidental flats. His eyes shimmer under the moonlight and it's own cascade on his body and mind and soul, well...<br/>It almost feels too real to be a dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight Sonata's Remix

You clock out at 9 p.m. trying to find the right chord or  _something_ to make this dubstep actually special. After a few draining video games, though you finally beat a level on your favorite shooter game, and chugging a few Red Bulls you stop for a breather which turns into a good commitment of shut eye. The damn work-in-progress can get finished in the morning. When you have to upload it depends on you so you have enough time. This boring piece was supposed to be something special. Now it just feels like a replay of your previous failures on execution. 

It's been frustrating you for so long how inspiration is a no-line mine and it's felt like centuries since you've produced something remotely promising. People are starting to say they don't feel it (you don't either; it's become the bad kind of flat) and the flow of purchases of your music are starting to lessen as the songs create a mimic of today's cookie cutter pop songs. And hell if you'll start following the trends. That's the day Rose will convince you to knit with Kan. But it seems that day will come sooner than wanted.

Songs are your passion, along with photography, and that isn't what you wanted to give up. Classical just wasn't for you, blowing out of a spit collector is  _not_ fun no matter how it may look on the Princess and the Frog, and if you could dance you would be making millions now. Two left feet illness and there is no cure. Prom was a hell of a night. Pretty sure the caterers still hate you for dropping a good dozen of their tiny, pretentious avocado sandwiches while trying to impress a girl with your Michael Jackson-like moonwalk. You got her number but out of pity and amusement. Now she prefers girls (Rose) and you dudes.

A headache starts knocking on your head and sleep tugs a little more each minute. Turning off the light, you say a silent goodnight to yourself and fall fast asleep in seconds. Good to get rid of it soon. 

\--

You're woken up to the sound of a familiar tune and wonder if an older neighbor left their tv on a loud soap opera. But it grows louder and louder and that's when you know it isn't the magical baritone of Alexander Lewis. You shrug off your blanket and try to find the source of you being woken up.

The thing you run into is not your worn turntables and shitty swords but it is a hall of white marble with intricate designs on the floor and walls, a open sky window, and a boy - no man - looking just your age playing a piano straight in the middle. Every corner is filled with moonlight and the side windows are not closed, letting a small breeze go over your cold sweat. Rushing water fills your ears as well though you have no idea where it's coming from because no fountains seem to be in sight inside or outside what should've been your apartment. 

_This should've been a dream_

Your eyes then shift from the ethereal background to the person playing in front of you. Though the unknown building gives you unease, his playing provides reassurance as if it were perfectly normal to walk into a private concert for only the man himself. A name comes up into your brain saying  _John._ You've never met any Johns in your life so you brush it off. His fingers move gracefully through the keys, his head bobbing with each rigid note. Harmonies blend wit melodies and sweet naturals contrast with accidentals. His eyes shimmer under the moonlight and it's own subtle cascade emphasizes what mind body and soul are, well...

It's too real to be a dream. 

Footfalls coming from you echo throughout the great hall but he pays no mind. The minimal crescendos and decrescendos reverberate as well, seeming to bounce from wall to wall and into himself as well. Arpeggios climb up and down as the song starts to slow down.  _Ritardando._ It quickens a little after and goes back to cut time. It presents itself as Moonlight Sonata but with added twists and turns as a stamp of it's musician. He plays with form and grace but also free as if his mistakes come from being too vigilant. The song starts to come to an end and he finishes but not without a stunning ring of the last note haunting your mind for nights to come. Only then do you wish to make your presence known and clap which finally gets his attention.

He looks around the room and then focuses on you. 'Who are you?' he says, a confused look on his face. 'How'd you get here?'

You shrug, wanting that answer for yourself. A pair of glasses enter your mind and your hands wanting to put them on the man's face for a reason you can't pinpoint. As the man speaks, you notice, his voice has no sound. But you know he talks because his mouths form letters and those letters form words which ultimately form sentences. 'I have no clue. I was sleeping in bed and the next thing I knew,' you formed shapes with your hands, them being your way to show disarray, 'I was listening to young Mozart in front of me.' You smirk. Then, and only then, do you realize that your shades are on your far away nightstand leaving your eyes bare of a shield. 

With your statement, he blushes. The dream must've given you good vision because the moonlight almost obstructs his face but you can see him clearly right there. 'T-thank you. I thought I was alone. Guess not.' He turns his head and looks at his grand piano, white with blue accents that seem to be wisps. 

'I thought I was asleep. I stayed up for inspiration, got none, and went to sleep. We're on the same boat. My name is Dave, by the way. Dave Strider.' 

He nods. 'My name is XXXX XXXXXX. Pleasure.' He smiles with his teeth out in the open, that too, being reflected with light from the top of the hall.

Weird. His name was not heard and I wanted to ask him again for it. 'Sorry, what's your name again?' 

He looks crestfallen for a moment, not long enough for you to ask for further explanation, then rebounds, smile still there though not reaching his eyes like before. 'XXXX XXXXXX. Nice to meet you.' Jumping off his seat he walks towards you.

You ignore the bleeping out of his name and get back to the matter at hand. 'I feel like this isn't a dream. Do you?' He is at your side now, smiling at you still.

'Mhm. It feels real to me as well. Though we've - ' he coughs, once, twice, then continues, 'Never met. Not that I remember.' Four-letter-name-man sits down and you find yourself joining in the position.

'OK. OK, I guess that's a fact I can settle with until I wake up.' His shoulders sag a bit.

He sighs. 'Yeah'

'So when did you create that piece? You obviously had a good time to perfect that song.'

'I had time on my hands, too much time, so I used that time to turn an old piano, an ancient music sheet, and some creativity into, well, what you just heard.'

'Amazing.'

'Yeah, thanks.' He sighs again. 'It beats sitting here for a good eternity or so.'

You turn your head to face him. 'You've been here for an eternity.' Sure, you have spare time sometimes, but how could someone be so confined to a place for an eternity. Must be exhausting. Though this is a dream after all. Anything could happen. For all you know this guys could be majorly fucking around with your noggin. Not enough evidence.

'Yup. Surprising what you could put your mind through when limitless time is involved.'

'I think we all have a limit.'  _You've met this guys precisely 5 minutes ago, he is a figment of your dreams and you are already starting to get deep. Sleep deprivation is real._ 'I think that we just see it as limitless. No one truly has the power to keep running g and not stop because they have time. They just feel like they don't have to stop. You with your piano and me with my remixes proves just that. I tired myself out because I have time tomorrow. I thought I had time tomorrow. When really, I probably lied to myself and a surprise lecture is waiting for me. Your music was created because you have time in this dream. But I'll wake up and you might disintegrate. Morbid but true. Hell, I might as well be a time lord and stop time for  the heck of it. What have I got to loose?' You end with a laugh but his downcast expression cuts it short.

'I guess that's true. In more ways than one.' He stands up and lends you and hand. You take it with caution and he leads you to his piano, no sheet music in front of it. He played by memory. Utterly amazing.

You both sit down and he starts playing the same melody. Everything is a copy from last time but he stops at the middle. 'I've been playing the same thing over and over again waiting for him to recognize the tune, to say something to me, tell me I haven't changed a bit.' Laughs bubble from him and you switch your gaze from the front of the piano to his hands, clutching the fabric of his sea green pants. 

'I played the real Moonlight Sonata for a cheap birthday present for him and he said it was great. Every year after I started to play different songs. When we were on the ship - ' He sniffles, pausing for a bit. You haven't looked at him yet but if you did you'd bet he was crying. You don't sneak a peek. Not yet anyway.

'I was stuck with his other self but I still played the song because, you know, it was the same person I think, just with wings. I had fabricated the song you had just heard with all the time I could sneak without my companions annoying me. Anyway he loved the song but stayed with my sister, not really bothering me at the time. My heart was honestly broken when I finally met the real, non-orange him. He was with another person and I was, though elated to actually be in his vicinity, depressed because he met someone else. I spent my time on finishing up the song I made now being given all the time in the alternate world. I felt dead. I felt lifeless. Sure, friends tried helping but it was no use.

'Time passed and we eventually defeated the enemy. Everyone rejoiced except him since the person he was with before died at the hands of Lord English during the battle. My sister tried to tell me it was gonna be ok but I just wouldn't, couldn't, believe her. And so I holed up here.' He gestured to the room. 

'I don't know where the hell he is or who the hell he could be with at the moment but I play this song, just wondering what he ever did with time because my freedom was like his ability. Powerful but suffocating at the same time.' A sad laugh resonates through his body, his whole frame shaking in front of you. He looks up from where he sits. 

'You know, you look just like him.'

And an alarm starts to ring, waking you to tear soaked sheets and your hands trembling. But an idea hits and you almost trip over the cords while trying to get to the turntables as fast as humanly possible. You've got a remix to create. 

\--

 A few slip ups and bags of chips are all it takes to make you finally finish it, but it's there and it's perfect. It sounds exactly how you want it to sound, the base drops right when you want it to and it just takes a couple edits in pitch to put it online. The song isn't something you spent hours on and that's what makes it unique to the other tracks on the website. It was a spur of the moment idea and the product was more than your expectations said the piece would be. You just want him to see it. 

You upload it, waste two hours talking with Rose and playing more levels of your video games, and check to see the progress. The usual amount of listens and downloads are around five to ten in the first couple of hours. But the amount of listens is fifteen and the downloads are above twenty. Seems to be a success. You high five yourself in a swiveling chair and almost fall over with your bowl of fruity pebbles because of the loose wheel. This chair needs to be fixed or else you'll be killed.

After recovering you take a listen to the new creation, thinking somethings could still be fixed. Right now though you are back in the hall of white, listening to his song and telling him it was perfect. He tells you he was happy with what you did. 

'You look just like him.'

Yeah, John. Yeah I do. 

You wipe a tear and keep checking the progress.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I just realized the summary makes it sound like sex woah.  
> I know I REALLY need to update on Miracles, A Week in Paradise, etc, etc. A lot of personal things have been happening, not allowing me to focus on all of this. Thank you for hanging on though! I feel like this piece was the little shit that I just had to push out in order to punish myself for abandoning this place for a long time. That sounded weird. 
> 
> I promise sometime around this week I will update at least one fic and get back on track :3


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